


Genuine Need

by penny



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Community: ij porn_battle, D/s, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:59:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the IJ Porn Battle prompt <em>Seras/Sir Integra, virgins</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Genuine Need

Seras still can't bring herself to drink the blood. She knows she needs it, but...

_Did it relieve you somewhat, police girl?_

Seras blushes. Yes. Sir Integra's blood had relieved her. "The genuine article," Sir Integra had said, "one hundred percent virgin blood." And oh! She understands why Master craves it. Just the few drops she had...

"Still not drinking the blood, police girl?"

Seras startles and rises, bumping the table with her knees. Her bowl of medical blood sloshes but doesn't spill, and she's relieved. She's not certain she can bear the shame of staining the tablecloth. "S-sir Integra."

"Are you hoping for another taste?" Sir Integra stalks towards her.

"No, that's not it at all!"

"Don't lie to me. You're a vampire. Of course you want it." Sir Integra smirks. "Kneel, Seras."

She kneels. It feels so right, like one of Master's orders. She has to laugh at herself for that, because it _is_ one of Master's orders. Alucard owns her, and Sir Integra owns _Him_. Therefore Sir Integra owns her.

Sir Integra steps closer and plants one foot between Seras's knees. "Look at me."

It's hard meeting Sir Integra's eyes. Seras trembles -- in want, in need, in so many things she can't identify -- and holds in a tiny whimper. Sir Integra doesn't remove her gloves, runs her thumb hard over Seras's lower lip, and that...that does make Seras whimper.

"Perhaps you'd like it from my wrist." Sir Integra slides up the bottom of her glove, and Seras's mouth waters.

She tugs the glove back in place. "Or perhaps from my thigh." She leans into Seras so her quad is firm between Seras's breasts. Seras can feel her pulse and the rush of her blood. It sings in her ears, makes her throb in need, makes her whimper.

"No." Sir Integra bends over her, forcing her thumb in Seras's mouth, and the scrape of the glove over her teeth -- so close, that blood is so close, but she can't bite without an order -- is enough to drive her mad.

Sir Integra's knuckle slides past her upper teeth. "You want my neck."

Seras shakes her head. Yes, and no. Sir Integra's neck...well, if anyone is going to bite her neck, it will be Master. She doesn't deserve it.

Sir Integra's smirk widens. "Ever the devoted servant, I see." She remains pressed against Seras and reaches over her to pick up one of the knives from the table.

Seras whimpers. She's salivating now, soaking Sir Integra's glove, and she's not sure what kind of noises she's making beyond helpless ones. Her pulse matches Sir Integra's, and it strums through her, settles low in her belly, and she's more than hungry. She's...horny, and she's panting, and she's hot everywhere. Burning.

"Please, Sir." Trying to form the words around Sir Integra's thumb makes the heat in her core spread, and whatever sounds she manages trail off in a moan. She finds her hands sliding between her legs and clenches them into fists on her thighs.

"Perhaps it's not just blood you want." Sir Integra slides her foot forward, and Seras can't help it. She rises up slightly, rolls her hips so she _almost_ slides against Sir Integra's boot.

"Please, Sir." She can smell Sir Integra now, and her musk is as sweet as her blood.

"Hold still," Sir Integra orders, and Seras obeys. Sir Integra withdraws her thumb until the pad of it is firm on Seras's lower lip and makes a quick cut with the knife. Her blood wells up, sweet and intoxicating, and Seras trembles with the effort of holding still. She's soaking her panties, and Sir Integra's foot is so close. Her blood stains her glove, and the scent is heady and rich, and both hungers make it so hard to focus.

"Good, Seras. Hold still." Sir Integra's voice, usually so commanding, is husky, and Seras can feel Sir Integra's need strumming through her. Her Master's need is her need. Her Master's will is her will. She can hold because Sir Integra wishes it, even as her need builds and overflows.

"Come now." Sir Integra slides her thumb back in Seras's mouth. "And drink."

Seras is not sure which hits her first, the blood on her tongue or her orgasm. Both have her writhing, grateful for Sir Integra's presence, because for a moment she forgets herself and can only remember Sir Integra is her Master. Her Master, and at this moment, her entire world.


End file.
